Doctor Who - 01 - Past Future Continuous

12. Ice and Drugs

Donna lifted her eyelids and blinked surprised at a sight of an anxious face, hovering above her. A woman standing next to Donna's bed gave her a warm smile. Donna knew that face, deep wrinkles in the corners of her mouth, puffy eyes circled with shadows. That face had no right – no right whatsoever – to hover above her with a warm smile.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" said the woman. "Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself."

A leather wallet, opened to show the ID card, appeared next to her face.

"Harriet Jones, Prime Minister."

"Yes, I know who you are," Donna answered reflectively. "I mean... what...?"

"Captain Harkness!" Harriet turned towards the gallery, which surrounded the room, where Donna's bed was placed – no, not the bed, it was actually a narrow hospital couch. Tilled walls were a dusty shade of white, the colour tiles acquire only after many, many years. This place had been created a long time ago, maybe at the turn of the previous century, maybe even earlier. Even before Donna found a sign on the wall, something in her mind spoke with absolute certainty: "Torchwood." The pain behind her eyes grew slightly stronger.

"As long as the sarcophagus is not ready, we have to keep her in the state of coma." A masculine voice, quite pleasant, despite audible aggravation. "Honestly, I see no other option. Every minute, every second may prove to be critical."

"Doses of Amnesia I'm giving her may prove critical as well." Another familiar voice – still girlish, but strong, used to giving orders. "Your Amnesia Pill contained just a few milligrams of an active substance; now we are pumping whole grams into her. The drug has not been tested; side effects may be very dangerous. Please, Jack, we're killing her. What will I tell Wilf if she..."

"Captain Harkness, miss Jones, she's awake," said Harriet, apparently trying to speak louder than the girl.

"What?!"

A man's face appeared in Donna's field of vision; a handsome face, with a chiselled chin and sky-blue eyes. She smiled involuntarily, at the same time however pointing an accusatory finger at Harriet and whispering theatrically:

"She's dead."

"Miss Noble..."

"Oh, no, please – Donna – we don't have to get all official just because I'm dying," she said lightly, turning her head towards a young woman in doctor's coat. "Martha, right? Martha Jones. We've met before... You said you felt as if you were wearing your father's coat, and I said you were so over him, apparently, if you were thinking about him like that..."

She curled on the couch, both hands pressed to her temples.

"Oh, it hurts!" she groaned. "Everything's wrong. The world is cracked. The whole world... cracked..."

"Is it possible that she's talking about the Rift?" whispered somebody at the gallery above.

"No," the man answered dryly. "Anything new?"

"It reminds chitin," answered a dark-haired woman, leaning over the railing and handing him a sheaf of papers. "The weapon. It's not wood or bone, but chitin. Like an insects' crust."

"Abducted by the beetles," laughed somebody else, at the back of the room.

"It's not funny, Ianto."

"All things considered, no, it's not," admitted a young man, carrying a tray laden with mugs. "Is she awake?"

"What's going on?" asked Donna. She untangled her hands from her thick, auburn hair and sat up with effort. In spite of the pain splitting her skull, or maybe because of the pain, some old part of her broke free, and Donna yelled at the world: "What the hell's happening? Where am I? What is this place? Tell me! What am I doing in Torchwood and WHERE. IS. THE DOCTOR?!"